The Final Moments of a Drama Queen
by Kimi-sama
Summary: Draco takes the only way out he can see. What will they say when Harry finds him? hints of slash if your mind works that way, suicide, meanness, it's not as humorus as the title suggests.


I wrote this specifically because I was irritated at people for writing Harry and Draco and having Draco bitch at Harry for not examining him like a bug and just knowing he wasn't like his father and then harry going "Oh I'm so sorry! I was so wrong! I'm an idiot, let me kiss you and make it better." Draco has never given any indication of being something other than a Lucius clone. So I wrote this piece of crap drabble. On with the crappiness.

The Final Moments of a Drama Queen

There is blood on the ground.

"Oh Merlin, not you."

"I could say I'm surprised, but really, I'm not. "

A shift causes the bright liquid to ripple and spread, touching the toe of a pair of black shoes.

"What. No running to my rescue? I thought you were a big hero Potty."

A shrug. The shoes take three steps forward into the liquid and stop just before a pale arm that is only getting paler.

"You want to be rescued? I would have thought with that little beauty on you you'd be better off dead. You don't strike me as the sort of person to do anything without thinking it through thoroughly first. You cut yourself the wrong way you know, it takes a while to go like this, but I can't fault you for trying. I doubt daddy dearest gave you suicide 101 along with torture techniques for beginners."

One black shoe nudges the arm nearly touching the only other blemish on the arm besides the cuts that seep blood at a steady pace. The arm flinches away.

"Tender is it? I'm sorry." he does not sound sorry.

Laughter bubbles up from the boy on the floor. It is not nice laughter.

"Your just like him Potter. Only younger. People are either with you or against you and you don't forgive."

"Why should I forgive a Death Eater like you?"

He sounds almost genuinely curious. But the boy on the floor just sighs, a sound that says 'you will never understand' and 'I wish it hadn't come to this' and a thousand other sad and angry and accusing things, and doesn't bother to elaborate.

"You never did bother to see I was not my father."

"You never gave me any indication that I needed to think otherwise Malfoy."

Again the laughter.

"No, I suppose I didn't. You've always been such an arse Potter. You still are."

"Sounding a little weak there Malfoy."

"Sod off. I've been here a while."

The boy, the one who isn't bleeding to death, squats down so he can look the other in the face. His head tilts ,considering, to the side.

"Do you really want to die Malfoy? I could save you you know. All you have to do is ask."

"And what. Sell you my soul in return? Be a spy until my untimely and very painful death when the Dark Lord finds out? You're not doing a very good job at convincing me Harry."

"Harry? That's very forward of you."

"I find myself not giving a shit. And no, you may not call me Draco. I'm the only one who's dying here."

The chuckle from the other boy is warm and surprised. It carries a strange power and that power wraps itself around the pale young man and seeps into his bones. He feels his cooling extremities give a last little tingle in response.

"You're not so bad Malofy."

He sits down next to the dying boy, ignoring the sticky wetness of the blood seeping into his clothes and pulls the other boy to him. He won't save Malfoy unless he expressly asks for it, but he'll be damned if he lets him go alone.

Draco wants to say something to Harry. To thank him for the kind words. He had not realized he had wanted so much to hear them until he felt something in his chest loosen. He wasn't so bad. He wasn't evil. Then Harry had taken him into his arms and suddenly he could not force anything past the lump in his throat. He turned his head into Potters chest instead so he couldn't see his eyes shine. And then he waited, measuring the passing of time by the way the cold crept up his arms and legs.

"I've decided you can call me Draco." he says to Harry eventually and is surprised by how much of an effort it is and how small and thin his voice sounds. He doesn't bother to try and take his head from Harrys lap. He is comfortable here.

Draco decides there are worse ways to spend the last night of your life than in the arms of Harry Potter.

"Alright Draco." Harry says softly and wraps his arms more tightly around the young man in his lap.

"Stay with me?" Dracos voice is nearly a puff of air.

"Of course."

And he does. He stays with him until the sun begins lighten the eastern sky sending gray tendrils of light into the dark room and Draco as long since stopped breathing in his arms. And then he stands, slowly, because he is stiff and sore from sitting on the ground and takes Draco up again. He glances once more around the lightening room. It stinks of blood, he knows, but he can no longer smell it. The hallways outside will have the earliest students already in them, heading for the Great Hall and breakfast. The teachers will already be sitting at their table by the time he reaches them and most of the students will be there. Those that aren't present will know in a hour. Harry opens the door with a foot and steps outside.

"Even in death you're a drama queen." he says sardonically.

The door swings silently closed behind him.


End file.
